


watched you dress (kiss & tell)

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Image, Canon Compliant, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Extended Metaphors, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grammy Awards, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mania Era, Metaphors, Transformation, metaphor for body issues, my first real fic and my baby...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-04 18:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15847221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The bathroom was left vacant as he exited, Patrick’s chest rising and falling under the cascade of his deep breathing. He had always been the nervous type. Always the type to hide behind hats, and thick glasses. Patrick was not going to hide tonight. For years, everyone knew him as “the guy from the band”. The man behind Pete Wentz. But Patrick Martin Stumph had worked his ass off to get here, and Fall Out Boy knew they deserved what they were getting tonight.Fall Out Boy win their first Grammy, but not before Patrick starts turning into a monster.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading and supporting. this work is my baby and i’ve put so much time into my idea and work.

Patrick tilted his head back slightly, hurrying his calloused fingers across the buttons of his shirt. His charcoal-shaded jacket brushed startlingly against his back and this caused Patrick to gasp inaudibly, the warm breath fogging the thick lenses of his glasses. He turned in the mirror, examining himself and growing satisfied with his own appearance. Patrick wasn’t the vain type, had never been in all his years of living, but he was proud of himself. He was proud of himself for making it this far.

 

The bathroom was left vacant as he exited, Patrick’s chest rising and falling under the cascade of his deep breathing. He had always been the nervous type. Always the type to hide behind hats, and thick glasses. Patrick was not going to hide tonight. For years, everyone knew him as “the guy from the band”. The man behind Pete Wentz. But Patrick Martin Stumph had worked his ass off to get here, and Fall Out Boy knew they deserved what they were getting tonight.

 

“You nervous?”

 

Patrick, now comfortably seated in the back of the limousine, was blatantly offended that Pete didn’t think he was nervous. Who wouldn’t be? Patrick wasn’t fucking Rihanna! The Grammys were the deep of the swimming pool, and Patrick felt like a scared 7-year-old in the 3-feet end.

 

“Yeah. But ready. Ready as’ll ever be.”

 

Pete planted a chaste kiss where Patrick’s neck met his left collarbone, honey-gold skin meeting porcelain expanses. “We can do this. Nothing’s stopped us before, right?”

 

Patrick didn’t know how to respond, other than by nodding quickly and brushing Pete away after what felt like a few hours of having the older man pressed against him. He was nothing if not faithful to Elisa and his family, even if he and Pete had shared their feelings (and bodies) in the past. That was the past.

 

Joe was the one to break the nervous silence. “So, like, when can we get food? I’m fucking starving, I could eat Patrick,” he announced, earning him a glare and a sneer from Andy along with a Larabar tossed at his face.

 

“One thing about award shows is that you never come unprepared,” Patrick stated flatly. “So, is that your dad instincts kicking in, or your Taurus instincts kicking in?” Joe was a people-pleaser, the class clown of the group. Even Andy was laughing, but to be fair, they were all nervous. This didn’t happen every day. Almost as if perfectly timed with their actions, the limousine windows rolled down. Patrick, too surprised and shocked to remember English, stuttered as he popped open the left back door of the vehicle and blinked to erase the camera flashes from his vision.

 

“Patrick, can we get you over here?” The inquiry was repeated so often, it almost made his ears ring. He was happy to oblige, but it was quite hard to shake the feeling of being a posable doll belonging to the cameras and magazines. _Hard to shake the red carpet blues_. When the pictures had been taken, Fall Out Boy continued into the venue.

 

After what seemed like forever, the award for album of the year was in the spotlight. “And the award goes to...” Patrick was on the edge of his seat with anticipation. Literally. He felt as if he were being tilted onto the edge of his seat, almost uncomfortably. He passed it off as being butterflies, and crossed his fingers, feeling ready to burst with excitement.

 

“Fall Out Boy’s M AN I A!” Patrick got up to scream with joy, to hug his bandmates— no, his family. But when he did, the venue erupted with gasps of shock and horror, for Patrick had grown a rather large reptilian tail, peeking out from the back of his slacks.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick’s prince carries him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lied. chapter two now!

Patrick was floating. He felt as if he were, at the very least. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered viciously, as if they were attempting to tear up his insides in a violent escape. He didn’t know whether or not he would mind much if they were.

 

He had taken to the bathroom not long after the laughter and mockery began. His face was beet red, hair disheveled and pants ripped in the back from the pressure of the growth. Patrick didn’t think death was much worse than this. _What is wrong with me? What the fuck?_

 

He sobbed, head against his chest and peacock-shaded tail tucked to the side. Patrick didn’t want to see anyone. Something was wrong with him, he should hide away forever. He could cut up his credit cards and leave Elisa a note, yeah, that sounded good-

 

“‘Trick? Man, you in here?” Pete’s voice was tinged with concern, but to Patrick, he seemed fed up. Irritated with Patrick’s bullshit. “Leave me alone. Or kill me. Drive a fucking stake through me, why don’t you? I’m already a fucking freak, huh?”

 

“Open the door, Patrick.” Patrick could hear Pete scowling through his words. “Just- open the fucking door!!! I want to see you, goddamn it!”

 

Patrick wiped his eyes and slid the bathroom lock into an “open” position. “Take a look at me, Pete. You think Elisa and Declan saw my epic fucking blunder?” The older man just shook his head and buried his face into his hand, rubbing a temple with his left thumb. “Patrick, come home with me. We’re gonna get a flight home and you’re gonna see Elisa and we’re gonna get you to a hospital, alright?”

 

Patrick’s left eye twitched. “I can’t go home! Not when I’m-“ He angrily gestured across his body. “What’s wrong with me, Pete?! Why am I like this, why?!” Pete picked up Patrick with a soft grunt, carrying him out of the bathroom against his will. The door was pushed open and camera flashes once again attacked Patrick’s vision. It reminded him of arrows in an Indiana Jones film, barraging him from all directions. But he felt safe in Pete’s arms. “Just take me home,” Patrick sighed, covering his eyes with a hand and avoiding the camera. “I can’t fucking believe this.”


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick’s always been his eighth wonder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please remember to leave comments/criticism if you read this! i really would like to improve and i’m not quite sure how.

Patrick shook under the cool weight of the down comforter Pete had bought for him. He shivered, tail whacking against the bottom of the car seat. His suit was ripped beyond repair, and his skin was beginning to plate into scales on his hands and arms. He broke the long silence. “Pete, am I going to look like this forever?”

 

Pete didn’t respond. Patrick had always been his best friend, and he had always been there for Pete. Even if he was scared shitless, Pete was always going to be there for the younger man. Even like this. Pete vividly remembered a time in 2006, back when he couldn’t function without pills— pills to put him to sleep, pills to wake him up, pills to make him more happy and pills to make him lose his appetite. Patrick was there for Pete on the night he took too many. Whatever was happening to Patrick, Pete was determined to undo it.

 

The younger of the two bit his lip, less in the sexy, joking way he used to and more like a forfeit. A surrender to the silence between them. “Listen, I know I’m a fucking freak, but you can’t ignore me forever.” More silence. Pete’s heart broke at the thought that Patrick was struggling and he couldn’t bring himself to speak to his best friend. He just kept driving. They’d be home soon, they’d fix this. 10 past the speed limit, 20, 30. An hour and a half from Glenview. An hour and a half from Elisa. She could do this, she could help him feel better. If Pete couldn’t, she could. He saw the way Patrick’s whole body would tense up when she left, and relax when she was with him, kissing him and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Part of Pete was jealous, wanted that attention for himself. But he read something somewhere about true love, and how according to somebody, true love was loving someone even if they weren’t with you. Was it still true love if Pete was trying to be okay with her?

 

Meagan was lovely. Pete could be with her for the rest of his life, he really could. But another half of him wanted to tell her she was too good, that he wanted Patrick. But would that mean Patrick wasn’t good? Pete’s head hurt thinking about it, so he kept his eyes on the road and his thoughts off of Patrick.

 

Pete only spoke to tell Patrick that they had arrived at his house, it was time for him to go. Patrick whispered a soft goodbye and headed for the front door after trying a few times to hide his tail somehow (with no success). Pete couldn’t help but worry. Patrick had always been his eighth wonder, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what’s gonna happen next


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and Elisa almost consummate their marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they don’t acrually have sex... i would never write straight porn dw

Elisa planted a kiss on Patrick’s forehead, soft as velvet and warm as ember. Tears made a home in the inner corners of her eyes as she examined her husband. His gorgeous eyes. Full lips. Scale-plated neck and shoulders. “Baby... Honey... No..” She was sobbing into her hands now, and Patrick was close to joining her before she stopped in her tracks, laying her hands on his shoulders. “Sleep with me, babe. One last time, please,” Elisa pleaded with Patrick, and it hurt him to think that she didn’t want to have sex with him after this one time. Because of his _condition_. The word burned venom into his tongue, making him dizzy and lightheaded. “Yeah.. Yeah, let’s do this..”

 

Patrick lifted his arms and his wife removed his shirt, then fell into his arms with her back to his chest. He tilted his head down towards her, steadying himself with one hand on the bed. He kissed Elisa hard against the duvet, savoring each little noise she made, because for all he knew, this was his last fuck ever. He wanted to remember this forever, until he faded away. He separated their lips ever so slightly, still hovering over her.

 

“Promise me something?” He bucked his hips back and groaned- the tail was an inconvenience when it came to sex.

 

“What is it, love?” Elisa whispered the words into his neck like a secret that only they knew.

 

“Promise me you’ll find someone else after I change. You-“ He ground his protruding erection into her as he paused. “You need to find someone else, you deserve to be happy...”

 

She let out a fragile moan, making Patrick impossibly hard. “B-baby, I could never... Wouldn’t trade this for the world, baby.. What about Declan? He- He needs his dad...” Elisa was panting now. “S-so fucking hot, babe...”

 

Patrick spun her around to face him, the two of them sitting on top of the bed. She lifted her arms and Patrick jokingly bit into the hem of her shirt, taking it off with his teeth. “Show off,” she giggled and rolled her eyes. Patrick ran a hand across her arm, lip quivering. Did he have to give all of this away to some other man after he was gone? It terrified Patrick to think of his wife, the woman he loved, in bed with another man, because that would mean he fucked up. He didn’t want to fuck up if it meant losing her.

 

“Baby? Is everything okay?” Elisa paused mid-movement, what Patrick assumed was her leaning to the nightstand to get lube. “I- I-“

 

Patrick snapped back to reality. He felt dizzy, looking over at her and her porcelain skin and her beautiful brown eyes. Looking down at himself, and his dry, plated skin, fat clinging to his hips and sporting a fucking reptilian tail. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this!” Patrick began sobbing, screaming and hyperventilating, the whole tantrum. A well-earned tantrum, considering he was turning into a lizard, but a tantrum nonetheless. “I can’t, you’re so gorgeous and- look at me!” Patrick pulled his body away from hers as if he had been electrocuted, and pulled his dress shirt back over his head.

 

Elisa looked hurt and shocked. “B-baby, no, please don’t leave... Please! I need you, I need you! I- Just stay the night, please... Please, you can leave in the morning, just sleep next to me for tonight...” Her pleads broke Patrick, and he hesitantly slid back towards her, kissing her on the neck and breathing against her.

 

“I don’t want to lose you.. I’m so fucking afraid, I’ve been afraid since the second the tail grew out of me, I’m terrified that I’m going to die like this..” Patrick slurred his words in his panic, but Elisa placed a finger over his lips. “Shh... Shh, baby.. It’s okay, huh? I’ll always love you, I swear I will... Let me tell you, if I don’t wake up next to you tomorrow, then you can curse me and be angry at me all you like.. But I promise I will.. I promise I’ll be there...” Elisa smiled and Patrick sniffled, embracing her. “I love you.. Have from the moment I saw you...”

 

Patrick’s wife ran her hand over her husband’s cheek, smiling to stop herself from crying. “You wanna watch a movie, baby? Anything you want?” He nodded, and ran to get Ghostbusters.

 

They watched through the movie until Patrick fell asleep in her arms.

 

Elisa wasn’t there when he woke up.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick meets with someone who can help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday joe! also, guys, i know people say this a lot, but please leave kudos or a comment if you enjoy this fic. the lack of any reads/comments/kudos has been discouraging me and i may discontinue this fic if it continues for much longer. please, your support means the world, if there is any for this

Patrick awoke alone, and took to wailing out his misery into the bedsheets for the next hour. His face was becoming less human, his eyes seeming more like slits than eyes. Each time Patrick thought he wasn’t going to cry anymore, the distant throb of last night’s erection haunted him again. He couldn’t believe he’d embarrassed himself like that, let Elisa see him like this.

 

He wanted to win her back. He wanted to show her that he could be better than this, more than the monster he was becoming. He headed to the bathroom with sunglasses, a hat, and some clothes to cover his “ailment”.

 

Patrick tilted his head back slightly, hurrying his scaled fingers across the buttons of his jacket. His rough emerald tail brushed startlingly against his back and this caused Patrick to gasp inaudibly, the warm breath fogging the thick lenses of his glasses. He turned in the mirror, examining himself and trying to be as content as he could be with his own appearance. Patrick wasn’t the vain type, had never been in all his years of living, but he was proud of himself. He was proud of himself for making it this far. Even if he was a monster, he was still alive, and that was an accomplishment on its own. He could fix this.

 

Patrick rubbed the nape of his neck, pulling the brim of his cap down. He didn’t look too out of place, hopefully. The leather trench coat could have been a little off-putting, but Patrick hoped that people just saw him as an extremely enthusiastic _Matrix_ fan.

 

He glanced at a gorgeous girl passing on the sidewalk, and she waved her fingers at him. This made him blush, and he avoided her glance. His tail moved beneath his pants, and he went beet red, walking faster down the sidewalk to the L-train.

 

The witch called herself Miss Daisy, and she had a “little shop of horrors” in the Loop. Patrick carried a knife on him as a precaution. He had vivid memories of growing up in Chicago, being a little kid and getting held at gunpoint in this part of town. A small silver bell rang as he apprehensively, opened the door, and he stuck his hands in his pockets casually, exceptions being the thumbs. Patrick’s father had always told him that was a subtle sign of dominance, and although he had never really needed to use it, it helped his confidence.

 

“Hello?” Patrick’s voice projected from his throat, higher and squeakier than he intended it to be. “Uh, Miss- Miss Daisy?” After a few loud crashes from behind a bookshelf, a short and stout woman bumbled hurriedly to meet Patrick. Her skin was dark, but Patrick couldn’t identify her ethnicity. Caribbean, perhaps? Her frayed and frizzy locks were dyed purple and tied back. A smile pulled at her thin lips.

 

“That would be me, sugar. You need somethin’? Gift for your girly, maybe?” Miss Daisy let out a loud hoot, but it didn’t seem very funny to Patrick. He lowered the rim of his sunglasses to show a careful preview of his yellowing eyes, accented by dark pupils.

 

“Actually, I need some help with this. If you can’t help me, I’ll just find someone who can.” Patrick clenched his teeth, fang-like canines tearing into his plump bottom lip. Miss Daisy’s eyes widened, and she grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into a darkened back room.

 

“Follow me, and don’t look behind you. Don’t say a word. I can fix you, but you need to do exactly as I say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	6. Six: Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete and Patrick reunite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE EPIC FINALE.

Patrick’s eyes widened beneath his sunglasses. “You- You need me to take this shit off? Wh- What the fuck is going on?” He growled involuntarily, gasping and covering his mouth after realizing that turning into a reptile had heightened his aggression. This was going to be tough. Miss Daisy gripped Patrick’s arm with a firm hand. “I know it’s uncomfortable for you, dearie, but you need to. I need to see what it’s started to affect. You can trust me, honey.” Patrick wasn’t too sure of that considering he was currently in one of the most violent areas of Chicago, but he reluctantly agreed.

 

He started with his coat, stripping it from his arms and torso as Miss Daisy checked for customers and locked the door. Patrick shuddered at the cool air on the scales on his neck, drawing in a sharp breath and pulling at his shirt cuffs nervously. Miss Daisy frowned. “Sweetie, I know it’s hard... Do you need help? I’ve seen this before..” That was a lie and Patrick knew it. Lying to make him feel better wasn’t going to work. He still felt like a fucking monster. Disgusting, terrible, monster.

 

“Miss Daisy, I can’t do this,” Patrick’s voice came out higher than he meant it too, sounding like a wounded puppy. “I can’t, please just tell me how to fix it and I’ll do anything... Please...”

 

The older woman nodded and took off Patrick’s hat, ruffling his hair and putting the cap back in its place before he had a chance to grab it. Reminded him of old times, when he was just a teenager and Pete would hide his hats on the bus. Before everything had changed. Miss Daisy bumbled over to the bookshelves beside them as Patrick shrugged his jacket back on. “It’s a result of— Of self-hatred... Do you hate yourself, sweetie?” She acted gentle and hesitant, like she was waiting for an answer, but continued before he could respond. “Looks like you’re cursed... It’s a spell that makes you look like how you feel on the inside...” She continued reading, but paused. “You-“

 

Patrick begged silently for her to continue, he needed to know, he needed to fix this... “You need to have... Sex. Sexual intercourse.. With the person who’d love you no matter what..” So Elisa was out of the question.. Elisa, with her beautiful dark curls, coffee brown eyes, perfect face... He’d never have her back, would he? Miss Daisy kissed Patrick on the cheek sympathetically, making a gesture that he should probably fuck off now and get on with it. He whispered his thank you’s through tears, dashing out the door and towards someone else he never thought he’d talk to about this again.

 

“Pete? Pete, pleassse open the door...” He didn’t realize he had started hissing until then, and he broke into screaming, wailing, pathetic sobs. “Pete!! Pleas-sse... Pete-“ He was cut off by the opening of the door to Pete’s Chicago apartment.

 

“Patrick?” Pete’s lip quivered. “‘Trick, I d- I didn’t even recognize you..” Tears welled up at the inner corners of his eyes and he pulled Patrick into an embrace. “What do you need, Patrick, oh GOD, Patrick!”

 

Patrick shakily pointed a clawed finger at the living room behind Pete. “C-Can I come in? Isss Meagan ssstill out of town?.. Do you have Bronx?...” Pete shook his head. “Nobody’s here, don’t worry, alright? Nobody’s here, everything’s gonna be okay...”

 

Patrick’s eyes fluttered open and closed. He could hardly feel anything but pain now, emotional and physical. He felt his heart shrivel inside of him at the thought of Elisa. “Pete, I- I have to- We have to have sssex, Pete...” He was expecting Pete to be shocked and turn him away, but he was calm and collected. “W-Why? What’s up, dude?”

 

Patrick fell into his best friend’s arms, blubbering. “G-god, Pete, god damn it, I fucked up, I fucked up bad.. You know how you were alwaysss sssaying I ssshouldn’t be ssso hard on myssself? I fucked up, I ssshould’ve believed in myssself, dude.. Now I have to have sssex with you, the one person who’ll take me asss I am, or I might look like thisss forever. Or if you’re jussst pretending, then I WILL be like thisss forever... Pleassse, Pete, pleassse...”

 

Pete led Patrick into the bedroom and closed the blinds along with the door. He sat down on the bed sheets, patting a spot next to him and waiting for his friend to join. “It’s gonna be alright, Rick. I promise I won’t laugh at you or be mean to you or anything like that.” Patrick nodded and took off his coat, setting it on the floor and scurrying over to sit with Pete.

 

Pete ran a hand through Patrick’s soft brown hair, smiling at the touch. “At least you still condition your hair as a reptile..” Patrick snorted, his face blush-red under the plated scales. He had always been good at sex, no matter how often he denied it. Something about his graceful movements and, god, his lips. Patrick always had that ability to give women multiple orgasms, reduce men to messes. He decided to show it off now. What more did he have to lose? Certainly his dignity was nonexistent by now.

 

Patrick leaned into Pete, unbuckling the other man’s jeans and pulling down his boxers. “Pete, I- I’m gonna blow you now, becaussse I think my dick might be gone becaussse last time I checked I have, like-“ Pete made a disgusted face and held up his hand for Patrick to stop. “God, PLEASE spare me the details... Dick? Cool. Pussy? Cool. Neither? Just fucking blow me already, dude. Or- Wait, I’ll finger you.”

 

Patrick’s face lit up at this. “Oh, gosssh, thank you, are you sssure?” Pete gave a thumbs-up. “Positive.” The dark-haired man caressed Patrick’s cheek with one hand, pulling down his pants with the other. “Okay, yeah, so it’s a- it’s not a pussy. It’s normal.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, uh..” Pete squirted a gratuitous amount of lube onto his hand, covering the index finger completely. He put it inside of Patrick, savoring the moans that came out of him. God, he was fucking hard already... Both of them, together on the bed, without pants... This was like a fanfiction author’s wet dream. Patrick always did have a singer’s voice, and right now he was hitting notes that Pete didn’t know were possible to hit. He searched for Patrick’s prostate, digging around as Patrick continued making excruciatingly hot but entirely inhuman noises. “Patrick, you’re giving me a raging hard-on right now, I hope you know that.” Patrick didn’t respond, just continued hissing and wailing and moaning like a bad pornstar. Pete guessed he either hadn’t been fucked in a long time, had heightened reptile senses, or both. Pete smirked when Patrick’s dick finally popped up like a jack-in-the-box, leaking precome and throbbing red as he moaned. Pete grabbed hold of Patrick’s dick with his free hand, jerking him off and fingering him at the same time. Patrick screamed his name as he came close, drawing out the syllables and wailing. He finally came, painting his and Pete’s stomachs with warm white ribbons, Patrick quickly melting into a small, sleeping pile. Pete kissed him goodnight, and woke up to soft, porcelain expanses matched with rosy lips and cheeks. “Thank you,” Patrick whispered. “I love you,” replied Pete.

**Author's Note:**

> same time tomorrow?


End file.
